


Silver

by GreyWeeknds



Series: 30 days writing challenge [10]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:33:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWeeknds/pseuds/GreyWeeknds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first cut is the deepest they say, but how can you be so sure. Even though it’s the one that goes through his flesh the most it’s also the one that heals his heart the best. It’s not pretty, he knows that, but what can he do? Sure it hurts, but only for a moment. It’s this stinging sensation that makes you forget why you’re so sad and angry and all you can concentrate on is the blood that’s flowing in you veins. On some places on his skin there are those tiny white marks where he have garnered the skin so hard with his nails that there is loss of blood, he can’t even feel anything there when he tries to touch it when his fingers. But he’s not sad about that, rather the contrary to be honest. If he doesn’t feel anything then it can’t hurt, and that’s good. Because it already feels like a knife stabbing him right in the chest till it finally reaches his heart. At first it only touches the organ with the blade gently, tricks him that it doesn’t wants to harm him but then suddenly… the heart is on a skewer and roasts over a fire to be eaten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver

The first cut is the deepest they say, but how can you be so sure. Even though it’s the one that goes through his flesh the most it’s also the one that heals his heart the best. It’s not pretty, he knows that, but what can he do? Sure it hurts, but only for a moment. It’s this stinging sensation that makes you forget why you’re so sad and angry and all you can concentrate on is the blood that’s flowing in you veins. On some places on his skin there are those tiny white marks where he have garnered the skin so hard with his nails that there is loss of blood, he can’t even feel anything there when he tries to touch it when his fingers. But he’s not sad about that, rather the contrary to be honest. If he doesn’t feel anything then it can’t hurt, and that’s good. Because it already feels like a knife stabbing him right in the chest till it finally reaches his heart. At first it only touches the organ with the blade gently, tricks him that it doesn’t wants to harm him but then suddenly… the heart is on a skewer and roasts over a fire to be eaten.

Irritated he draws away the teardrop that is sliding down his pale cheek, he doesn’t want to cry anymore. He just feels weak and pathetic sitting in the white bathtub with his knees to his ribs while he’s hiding his head in the space between the kneecaps, all he want is to stop feeling so petrified in the whole the body for just a quick minute, only for a second if he can just get that. He doesn’t know how much more he can take; every breath he takes feels heavier and heavier. The curls are glued on his cheeks and when he rests his head against the porcelain it hurts a bit. He doesn’t know what it is, but it feels like all the hope he had left in his body is gone and he don’t know how to get it back. All that he can think about is the colour blue, how beautiful and nice it is. How much he wants to touch it and feel it under his fingers, press his lips against it. Grind his hips against it, _him._ But it’s too late, he knows that but it doesn’t take the pain away just because he has the knowledge about it.

Sometimes he just wants to take one of those colourful pills and swallow it so he can just forget his whole life, forgive himself. The thought is nice to imagine about, but it’s too good to even be able to happen. When he just closes his eyes and concentrates really hardly he’s certain that he can hear the sound of that thick voice in his ears, the accent that makes him shiver even in the warmest summer days. Before everything happened he could just lie beside the smaller body and listen to the deep breaths of the older teen. He remembers how calming it was, how safe he felt. At that time he had thought that it would last forever and that the love would never disappear, but he had been wrong. It had hit him like the lightning and floated away like the ocean. Even though the Irish didn’t love him back anymore, Harry couldn’t stop loving, longing and craving his presence. He was the sunshine that lit up his days when they were dark, and now he lived in a world that was just black. A horrible and terrifying world that scares him extremely much.

He glances down on the razor that he’s holding loosely between his index finger and the thumb, it’s shimmering prettily against the light from the lamp, and it almost looks like silver. There is tiny blood stains on it and he don’t know if he just imagines it, but for just a moment it looked like there was two eyes staring back on him when he looks in the shiny surface.

“Oh Haz, please stop doing this to you,” He hears the voice he thought was long gone.

“I’m here, I’ve told you so every day for the last two months.”

“You have?” he asks confusedly.

“Yes, I have. I love you so much and I’m not angry anymore. It’s time for you to move on too now.”

Before he can stop himself he begins to sob loudly, smashing his scalp against the wall. He can’t understand why he doesn’t remember seeing the blonde every day that he has said he has, when he only can remember that dark night when the rain was covering the whole front window. He can still hear the sound of the truck driving in the side of the rusty car and the light that blinds him, hearing the scream from Niall that cries of pain. It was his fault, the bleached blond boy wanted them to walk home but he had said that he had been too tired and wanted them to drive instead. It was his fault that his lover couldn’t anymore walk properly.

“Promise me to stop hurting yourself.”

“There’s just thing I can and things I can’t.” he says as he shows his inked humeral.

“But this thing you can. We can do this together.” He pleads.

“I-I’ll try.” He breathes out before he feels two arms hugging his shoulders strongly.

Even though the first cut is the deepest like they say, two lips that’s pressed against his neck is better. Nothing can heal a broken heart as good as a kiss from the one that you love, the one that he knows everything freckle of its body. He forgets how much everything hurts and all he wants to remember is this moment, this moment when he’s truly happy again. This moment when he don’t care about the silver razor that is forgotten on the bottom of the bathtub, the blood that is dripping down his wrists and the pain in his chest, all he cares about it that he wants to let this moment last forever. 


End file.
